


A Prize to be Won

by defyaugury



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Monster Falls, BDSM, Blood, Bondage, Deerper, Gore, Human!Bill, Hunter!Bill, Kidnapping, M/M, Master/Pet, Older!Dipper, Rape, all the basic sin tags, non-con, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defyaugury/pseuds/defyaugury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper tries not to panic when he finds himself kidnapped by a dangerous hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trap

**Author's Note:**

> changed to Explicit rating and official non-con tag because...well, you'll see

It was the sound of crunching leaves that woke him.

He could hear them crunching underfoot, the sound of brittle fall leaves being ground to dust. Something was wrong. He was moving, swaying from side to side as someone carried him along.

Dipper opened his eyes, the effort which was much more difficult than it should have been. He was so tired. His limbs felt like lead and there was a horrible pounding in his head, as if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. His hind leg ached and he was sure one of his antlers was broken. Once the fog cleared from his vision, he could see that he was being carried. He was slung backwards over someone’s shoulder as if he were nothing more than a prize from the state fair. The next thing he noticed was that his hands and both sets of hooves were tied.

What was going on? The last thing Dipper could remember was that he’d been caught in some trap. He’d been bounding easily through the woods, eager to meet Mabel at the river, when a terrible, searing pain clamped down on his hind leg, sending him tumbling. He remembered seeing the blood as it spilled over his fur and the trap, making everything slippery. He remembered the pain and remembered trying to pry the trap open on his own, but it was no use. He needed a key to open it. He remembered being stranded in the middle of the forest for hours, crying for help that would never come. The last thing he remembered right before passing out was seeing a figure, their silhouette hazy as they made their way through the trees towards him.

Dipper figured that that figure was the one that was carrying him now through the woods. He silently cursed himself. He knew that hunters set traps in these woods and that he needed to be careful. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid.

Dipper could feel himself slipping away, whatever drug the hunter had given him kicking in again. He fell back asleep to the rhythmic crunching of leaves and the sway of the hunter’s walk.

* * *

He came to with a start, sitting bolt upright with his first instinct being to run. Only, he couldn’t run. His hooves slipped over slick wooden floors and a terrible pressure caught on his neck, pulling him back with the sound of jangling chains.

Dipper looked down on himself, only to find his shirt and his bag with his journal had been taken. He fell back onto his haunches and his hands flew to his neck, his fingernails dug into his skin as he gripped at the collar pressed to his throat. He quickly found the chain attached to the collar and followed it, turning to find the other end bolted to the wall. He yanked at it, the sound of clattering metal loud and painful, but it was no use. The chain wasn’t moving. Dipper looked down to find his hind leg tended to and bandaged. Though it still stung, he could at least be grateful the trap was gone.

Dipper took a deep breath and tried to suppress the panic he felt rising in him. He had to remain calm, he had to think logically. This wasn’t the time to start freaking out. He spun around, looking around at his surroundings, trying to see where he was. A cabin, he was in a cabin. That much was obvious. Everything from the floor to the walls to the ceiling was wood, with windows looking out onto a grove of trees Dipper didn’t recognize. He was most likely very far from home.

It was then that Dipper’s eyes landed on the wall of the fireplace, the entirety of it filled with animal pelts and mounted antlers. _That_ was when he started to panic. He felt his heart racing and his chest heaving. This was not good. Really, really, really not good. He started hyperventilating and wrapped his hands in the chain bolted to the wall, desperately trying to yank it free. He then nearly scratched his throat raw trying to pull loose the collar the collar that was locked around his neck. _This is it_ , he thought. _I’m going to die here._

The sound of boots on woods came to meet him then, echoing from down the hallway to Dipper’s left. Fear swallowed him at the sound and he scrambled to get as far away as possible, his hooves scrambling on wood to get him as far away as the chain would allow. He was cowering, wedged in the small space between a bookshelf and the wall when the hunter finally entered the room.

He was tall, almost as tall as Dipper had he been standing. The hunter was decked head to toe in black and yellow, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal blood-stained forearms, which by the way, did absolutely nothing to ease Dipper. A bow tie sat at the hunter’s throat and a rifle was strapped to his back—again doing nothing to ease Dipper’s panic. Dipper supposed the hunter could have been handsome under other circumstances, but as it were Dipper was scared for his life and a large, rather painful looking scar ran down the hunter’s face and across his eye, effectively blinding him in that eye.

As he entered the room, the hunter’s eyes landed on Dipper and he grinned, showing a row of brilliantly white teeth. He was idly drying his hands on a bloodstained rag, his exposed arms flashing a number of scars and tattoos. “Well,” he said, eyeing Dipper. “Glad to see you up. Didn’t expect for the elixir to last quite so long. Bill, by the way,” he said, offering his hand out to Dipper. “Best hunter this side of the mountains.”

Dipper looked at the hand, then up at the man grinning down at him.

“Please,” he said, hating the quiver in his own voice. “Please, I’m asking you, please don’t kill me.”

The hunter barked out a laugh, taking his hand back without ever shaking Dipper’s. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not going to kill you.”

Dipper cast a wide-eyed look at the pelts and antlers that framed the fireplace. Bill followed his gaze and glanced back to Dipper.

“Your antlers are broken,” he said, his eyes flicking to right above Dipper’s head. He nodded to Dipper’s bandaged leg. “And your pelt’s ruined. You’re useless to me dead.”

Dipper tugged uselessly at his chain. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak. “W-What do you want with me, then?”

“Well,” Bill said with a shrug. He neatly folded his gory rag before tucking it into his back pocket. “You see, it tends to get a little lonely here out in the woods all by myself. So,” he added as he strolled over to the door of the cabin and slung the rifle off his back before propping it against the wall, Dipper eyeing him carefully. “I figured I’d keep you here, have you help me with a few things here and there. Keep me company.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper said. He tried to scramble to his feet, only to be pulled back down by the chain. “No, you can’t _do_ that!”

“I can, actually,” Bill said, as he walked back over and squatted in front of him. “You see, I caught you, which means you’re mine.”

“I’m not your prize,” Dipper spat and he pulled at the chain again. “You don’t own me.”

The next thing he knew, a crushing grip had latched onto his jaw and yanked him around, forcing him to look at Bill. Dipper felt his heart seize and everything in his head come to a screeching halt. Bill’s one good eye was trained on him, his gaze burning and the most deadly grin slashed across the hunter’s face. If Dipper didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Bill was going to eat him right then and there.

“On the contrary,” Bill purred. “That was _my_ trap you fell into, and you are _my_ catch. You belong to me now, and I _will_ do as I please with you.”

And then Bill kissed him. With a jerk of his wrist, he’d yanked Dipper forward, their lips clashing together almost bruisingly. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to pull away, but Bill’s grip was too strong. He gasped as a sharp pain suddenly bit into his lip and he could taste blood. Bill pulled away slightly, tongue flicking out to lick the blood from Dipper’s lower lip.

“I suggest you settle in, cervitaur,” he muttered against Dipper’s lips. “You aren’t going anywhere.”


	2. Pet

Dipper woke to an ache that consumed everything. He adjusted in his uncomfortable position on the floor, his heavy chain leash jingling. His hooves clicked dully on the hardwood. Dipper let out a yawn, stretching out his legs that had grown sore overnight. The water dish made a ringing sound when his left hoof hit it. He winced.

 

The day he'd been kidnapped, Bill has set a metal dish filled with water down in front of him like a dog. Dipper had sneered and kicked it over, spilling water everywhere.

"I'm not some wild animal," he said.

Rather than looking mad or upset, Bill looked amused, a small smile sliding across his face, his good eye lighting up. "No," he said calmly, "you're not wild. _That_ is because you are being cared for."

"I'm not your pet," Dipper spat.

Bill chuckled. "That has yet to be seen."

Two days later, Bill set the dish of water in front of Dipper again. This time he didn't kick it over, but he did glare at Bill until he left. Later that night, the moonlight shone in through the window near were Dipper's leash was bolted to the wall. It fell on the water dish, the pool inside glittering in silver light. Thirst slid its thick fingers down his throat, making it difficult to swallow, filling his heart with need. His tongue was swollen with dehydration, his mouth felt like he'd been swallowing sand.

Dipper shifted, his hoof hitting the dish, making the water ripple. It sloshed against the side of the dish, the sound like tinkling bells. Dipper swallowed, nearly choking on his own spittle.

The next morning, Bill came out to find an empty water dish, dry as a bone, with Dipper turned away from it, pouting with his arms crossed. Dipper refused to look at him, but Bill didn't say a word, simply picked up the dish and brought it back filled with more water. Dipper didn't say a word. The next morning when Bill came back, the bowl was empty again. And so it went.

Another day later, Dipper woke from a midday doze to the smell of cooking meat and sautéed vegetables. His stomachs growled, hunger digging into his gut like a knife. He hadn't eaten in days, and with two stomachs, hunger came twice as fast and the pain twice as often for a cervitaur. Hunger had been wearing away at him, but hadn't presented itself until now, roaring in full force at the smell of food.

Dipper's ears perked up, nose twitching as Bill walked into the room carrying a plate piled with steaming food. Dipper sat up, his chain leash dragging across the floor. He watched as Bill walked over to the couch across the cabin that faced Dipper's wall. Dipper's ear twitched, eyes wide as he watched Bill eat. This close, he could practically taste the vegetables and herbs. His stomachs growled.

Bill's eye flicked up to Dipper. He grinned. Dipper's face flushed. He hadn't even realized he'd been staring. He ducked his head and swallowed the saliva that had pooled on his tongue. He could feel his stomachs whimpering in protest, begging to be fed.

Bill chuckled. "Would you like some, Pine Tree?"

Dipper didn't answer, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He didn't even care to wonder where Bill had gotten the name Pine Tree from.

He winced when something warm and wet slapped the side of his face. Dipper opened his eyes to find a small chunk of grilled steak on the floor in front of him. Bill had thrown food at him.

Dipper's human stomach growled. Tears welled in his eyes.

"I said," Bill repeated, this time with an edge to his tone, "would you like some food?"

Dipper sniffed and blinked hard, trying to hold back his tears. Again, he didn't answer.

"Do you know why I haven't given you anything to eat yet?" Bill asked with a drawl. He speared a carrot on his fork, twirling it in front of him for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

Dipper didn't answer. His throat grew thick and he wiped at his nose.

"You get to eat," Bill said, "when you realize who you belong to."

"I don't _belong_ to anyone," Dipper snapped, finally looking up. His eyes burned from holding back tears.

Bill grinned, his eye glinting like a coin. "Pine Tree," Bill cooed. "We've been over this. As soon as you realize it, the easier your life will be."

Dipper glared at Bill. Anger burned in his chest, hot and searing. "I will _never_ belong to you."

Bill chuckled before gathering up his dish ware and strolling towards the kitchen. "Whatever you say, Pine Tree."

A scream ripped from Dipper. He snatched up the steak from the floor and chucked it at Bill. The hunter gave no notice and simply kept walking. He laughed, his voice echoing throughout the cabin and making Dipper's head ring.

 

Dipper arched his back, stretching his spine as evening sunlight filtered in through window.

Everything hurt. Everything. Hunger gnawed at his stomachs like a monster. Without any food, he'd wasted away over the past two weeks, his fur growing sparse and dull, both sets of ribs already starting to pronounce themselves. His neck was scratched raw and sore from his constant fruitless attempts to loosen his collar. His wounded leg, despite being bandaged properly, had grown infected since he kicked at Bill whenever the hunter tried to get close enough to clean it. His little fluff of a tail hung limp and listless. His broken antler had started to grow back, a process that was normally tolerable, but turned painful due to his extenuating circumstances. Sleeping on the floor in unnatural positions to accommodate his bindings gave him new aches and pains to look forward to every morning.

Without food, he felt exhausted all the time, despite the fact that he couldn't move more than five feet. He slept through most of the day, only waking to the need of thirst and the pain of his wounded leg.

He was miserable. He was miserable and in pain and a prisoner to a psychopathic hunter.

In other words, he was in hell.

Dipper moved to stand, only to feel an unyielding pressure on his wrists keeping him from moving. Panic flared in his chest, his head snapping up.

Large, metal contraptions gleamed silver in the sunlight, polished and pristine like some sort of sick trophy. They were thick, bolting Dipper's wrists to the wall so tightly, he couldn't even hope for some way of escape. Dread crashed down on him like a tidal wave, his heart leaping into his throat, his nerves on end. He began to keen. Whimpers escaped him, panicked cries and shouts spilling from his mouth. He pulled on his new restraints. He tried to twist his wrists and arms, but the metal was so tight, he couldn't move.

"Do you like your new jewelry, Pine Tree?"

Panic sunk into Dipper's chest like freezing water. He twisted around, turning as far as his new bonds would allow, to find Bill Cipher standing in the entryway, a cold, cruel grin on his face.

Despite the panic surging in his chest, Dipper managed a scowl. "You," he spat. "You did this."

"Of course," Bill drawled, leaning agains the doorway. Blood soaked his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. "Do you think I'd let anyone else touch you? Who else is there but me?"

"Let me go!" Dipper screamed, pulling on his wrists so hard the metal dug into his skin. The chain to his collar jangled.

"You see, Pine Tree, I can't do that," Bill said, shifting his position against the doorway. Dipper heard something else jingle as Bill moved, and he swore his heart stopped. Bill was hiding something, holding it behind his back.

Bill nodded at Dipper's neck. "You've been scraping yourself raw at that lovely collar I was so kind enough to gift you with. Well, I hate seeing my little prize in pain. I had to do something," Bill cooed. "You were going to end up killing yourself."

The raw and open skin at Dipper's neck throbbed. It was true he'd been scratching at his collar until he bled, his anxiety making it impossible not to, but still, _this_ was Bill's solution? To pin him down like some sort of dead insect in a showcase?

"I'm not your prize!" Dipper yelled. He barely held back the sob that'd worked it's way into his throat. "And it doesn't matter if I kill myself or not. You're starving me anyways. I'll be dead by the end of the month."

Bill's smile grew small and threatening, like a snake about to strike. He pushed himself away from the entryway. Whatever was being held behind his back jingled again. He strolled across the cabin, tutting as if Dipper was a child that'd drawn on the walls.

"Pine Tree, Pine Tree, Pine Tree," he said, crouching down to as he reached Dipper to be on his level. "We've been over this, my sweet." He reached up to trace a gentle finger along Dipper's cheek.

Dipper reared back and bit at him, narrowly missing Bill's finger.

Bill laughed, pulling his hand back. "You will be fed once you realize who you belong to," Bill said. He stood up and walked around Dipper, back to where his hind legs were.

Panic surged in Dipper, twisting his empty stomach. "Wh-What are you doing?"

Bill hummed in amusement. "Just showing you how much of a caged animal you are."

Dipper tried to kick out, to sink a hoof into Bill's stomach, but he was tired, starving, and weak. Bill was not. Dipper felt as the hunter's hand latched around his left ankle, making his infected wound scream in pain. He tried to yank it free, but Bill's grip was tight.

Before Dipper could do anything else, he felt something cold, hard, and unforgiving latch around his ankle. There came the same jingling from before and Dipper's hind leg was pulled to the side. Within minutes, Bill had seized and restrained the rest Dipper's legs in the same manner, pulling them far apart from each other so that Dipper was forced to stand on stilted legs with barely enough balance to keep him upright. Dipper's wrists were bound at chest hight and he was far enough from the wall that he barely had enough space to bend his elbows.

Dipper pulled at his restraints, panic consuming him like a plague, his heart racing so hard he thought it'd burst. His hoof slipped on the hardwood and he nearly fell. Bill caught him, forcing him upright again.

"Ah, ah, ah," he scolded before moving between Dipper's legs.

Dipper ducked his head as far as his antler and bound wrists would allow to see between his front legs. He caught a glimpse of Bill stringing up a metal bar, one between each set of hooves so that his legs couldn't slide any further apart. The chains on his ankles were pulled so taunt he couldn't move any further forwards or backwards. He couldn't twist his body because of his wrists. He was immobile. He couldn't move. The only thing he could do was turn his head, his chain leash jingling.

"Wh-What's happening?" Dipper asked, his throat burning, his fear tangible. He already knew the answer to that question. Knew it like he knew the dread that was eating him away from the inside.

"Hush, hush, my pretty," Bill cooed.

Dipper jolted when as he felt hands rub up the sensitive underside of his belly. They combed over his stomach, threading through the soft, white fur. Dipper trembled, his legs quivering. He hadn't felt another person's touch in weeks. He knew it was terrible, knew he shouldn't yearn for the way Bill was petting him, but he his body was starved. Starved for food and for affection, for some kind of touch and contact, the two burning needs mixing together until all he could feel was the pain of both of them pooling in his stomachs like white-hot needles.

Dipper keened as Bill ran his hands up his furry underside, sliding up his front towards the smooth skin of his human stomach.

"No," Dipper gasped. He pulled at his wrist bonds uselessly. "No, please. Stop."

The hands stilled momentarily and Dipper tensed, unsure what would happen next. The hands pulled away and Dipper wasn't certain if he was grateful or disappointed for their absence. He sagged against is bonds, gasping for air.

In the next moment, a hand fisted in his hair, yanking back his head so that he stared at the ceiling. Dipper let out a cry of surprise. The metal of his leash tinkled from the abrupt movement.

Before Dipper could do anything, a hot breath ghosted over his ear, wet and heated. "Let me tell you something, my _precious_ little pet," Bill seethed. He said the word 'precious' like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "You belong to _me_. You do as I say, not the other way around."

Dipper stared at the ceiling, unable to move his head for the painful grip in his hair. "Bill, please," Dipper sobbed. He blinked and he felt as tears rolled down his face. "Don't—"

"Who owns you?" Bill asked, his tone low and demanding.

Dipper froze, his voice caught in his throat. He couldn't answer, silence filling the air.

A snarl escaped Bill and the next thing Dipper knew, teeth were clamping down on his exposed neck, right above his collar, sharp, immediate pain flaring down his spine. Dipper let out a cry. He tried to rear, to kick his hooves and run, but he couldn't. He couldn't do a damned thing.

The teeth left his neck and it was less than a second before Bill was on his lips, kissing him, tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Dipper choked at the taste of blood— _his_ blood—on his tongue as Bill continued to kiss him. Revulsion churned in his stomach. Dipper ripped his mouth away, twisting his head to the side, and spat at Bill. His scalp burned with pain, his hair still fisted in Bill's hand, but he didn't care.

Bill froze, letting go of his grip on Dipper's hair. Dipper's head fell forward and he gulped down air, his heart racing and his head singing with pain. He could feel blood dripping down his neck, making his collar slick against his skin.

When he glanced up, his heart nearly stopped. Blood and spit glistened on Bill's cheek. The hunter was watching him, a cold fury raging just behind the eyes, but there was something else, too, something Dipper had seen before. Amusement. And in all honestly, that probably scared Dipper more than anything else.

A grin slipped onto Bill's face, his fang-like canines flashing in the evening light. His blind eye shone like a warning light. "Oh," Bill said, his voice as gravely and as cold as his glare. He reached up to carefully wipe away the spittle and gore from his face. "You should not have done that."

Panic surged through Dipper unlike anything else. It consumed him, his heart beating a tattoo against his chest, threatening to break a rib.

"No," Dipper begged. "No, please, I'm sorry." He tried to pull away, but his restraints wouldn't let him.

"I'll ask you one more time," Bill said, his tone deadly. He caught hold of Dipper's chin, sharp fingernails digging into his skin as he forced the cervitaur to look at him. When he next spoke, every word was emphasized. "Who do you belong to?"

Dipper gasped for ragged, panicked breaths as he looked into that gaze. Hunger felt like a knife in his stomachs, dread laced through his blood. His chest heaved. He knew what was going to happen, knew it better than the collar around his neck or the searing pain in wounded leg. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. He just couldn't. Whatever Bill had done to him already, Dipper just couldn't admit that he'd been broken, that he'd submitted and accepted his fate.

There was this one inkling, one desperate, fading spark in the back on his head, one glimmer of hope that he was going to get out of this alive. Mabel or Stan or Ford or Wendy would find him, or he'd find a way out of this hellhole and back to his normal life and he could still hold onto his dignity. He could tell everyone the stories of how he was pushed to his limits and still refused to break. And _that_ , that one little glimpse of hope, is what kept his resolve. Hope is what kept him from deteriorating, from breaking down at the seams and giving in to this monster of a man. Hope is what kept him stubborn.

Dipper had apparently taken too long to answer, the smile on Bill's face growing even wider. The hunter gave an airy shrug. "Okay, fine."

His tone sent chills down Dipper's spine.

Bill's blind eye flashed. "Have it your way."

In the next moment, Bill disappeared from sight, circling back around to the cervitaur's rear. He pulled away the bandages of Dipper's left leg, pealing away layers of blood-soaked linen to reveal the gaping and inflamed gash left beneath. Dipper barely had time to register what was happening before Bill jammed his thumb into the wound.

Dipper screamed. Pain splintered up his leg like fire. Tears streamed down his face and he felt like he was going to pass out. Bill twisted his finger inside Dipper's leg, Dipper's bleeding, wounded, and infected leg. If it weren't for the restraints holding him in place, he would've collapsed right there. He swore he could here Bill chuckling beneath the sounds of his own agony.

And then it was gone. Bill pulled his thumb back, leaving nothing behind but a throbbing, aching soreness. Dipper gasped from the relief, sagging forward, tears still streaking down his cheeks. The next thing he knew, Bill was kissing him again, jerking his chin to the side and pressing his lips against Dipper's so hard it hurt. This time, Dipper didn't retaliate. He didn't turn his head or bite or spit. He sat there and he took it.

Bill broke away, leaving hot, heavy pants to ghost over Dipper's lip. It shouldn't have sent a shiver down his spine, but it did, pleasure trickling down his back and right to his pelvis. Bill chuckled against his lips and Dipper bit back a moan.

A memory flashed through his head. The first day he'd been brought here, when he'd been caught in the forest and Bill had drugged him. He remembered Bill kissing him, biting him, telling him for the first time that Dipper belonged to him.

Bill let go, releasing Dipper's chin and forcing him back to the present. Anticipation and fear stirred together in Dipper's chest as Bill circled back around him. He jumped as he felt something press up against his rear. Something between a sigh and a whimper escaped him, the bulge beneath Bill's slacks feeling hot against his puckered asshole.

Hands ran up Dipper's sides, combing through his fur. Again, the touch was disorienting. Dipper felt sick to his stomach, wanting to buck away from it, but at the same time, the comfort of it, his _need_ for it, left him gasping and yearning for more.

The next thing Dipper knew, a wet, hot stripe was being licked up his human back. The pressure against his ass was gone, but he didn't care, Dipper moaned at the feeling. Bill peppered his back with teasing kisses and a probing tongue, sending jolts of pleasure through Dipper's sternum. Finger nails, sharp as claws, dug into Dipper's side, burying into fleshy human skin until blood ran red. A whine escaped him, sounding somewhere between dread and impossible, intoxicating arousal. Dipper could feel his cock sliding forward, growing hard against his furry underside.

Bill circled around to his front, slipping in between the space of his arms made from his wrists still being bolted to the wall. The hunter dragged his tongue up Dipper's emaciated front, dipping into his navel and sending hot sparks down his spine. Bill paused only at Dipper's nipple, sliding to the right to engulf the pink little bud in a burning wet heat. Dipper gasped at the feeling. Bill's left hand came up to thumb over Dipper's other nipple, rolling it and teasing it and pinching it until it was so sensitive, Dipper thought he'd cry.

Dipper moaned, unable to keep his mind focused on one thing at a time. Between the fear stabbing at his chest and the hunger gnawing at his stomachs and the hot, desperate, down right painful need pooling between his back legs, he was disoriented. He was splitting apart at the seems. He felt himself leaning into Bill's touch, electricity racing down his spine like hot pokers, and he felt sick with himself.

This was the last thing he wanted, to be taken advantage of, to be raped by a psychopathic killer that had stollen him and kept him hostage. But at the same time, this was what he _needed_ , to feel touched, to feel wanted and desired, to feel release from the burning tension building between his legs. He needed this more than anything else, and that scared the living shit out of him.

Bill released both of Dipper's nipples, which were now pink and swollen and throbbed in the cool air. He moved up, sliding his arms around Dipper's neck. Dipper's heart hitched into his throat as he felt the hunter press his tented pants against his stomach. He could hear Bill purring in the back of his throat as he looked at Dipper with half-lidded eyes and a half smile.

Dipper felt as burning tears ran down his cheeks. He pulled at his wrist restraints weakly, more out of habit than anything else.

"Bill," he begged. "Bill, please. Please don't do this."

Bill surged forward, dragging Dipper to meet him in a burning kiss, pressing against him with everything he had. Bill's tongue surged forward like a tide, invading Dipper, filling him until he could taste nothing else. Bill kissed him with a hunger, a lustful, burning desire that Dipper could feel in his very core. The hunter reached over Dipper's shoulders and dragged his nails up Dipper's spine like a scratching post, leaving trails of blood in his wake. Dipper sobbed against him, tears flowing freely now, his damn of resolve cracking.

Bill pulled away, a lazy grin on his face. His tongue flicked out, licking blood from his lower lip. _When did he bite me?_ Dipper wondered vaguely past the fear and lust fogging his mind.

Bill reached up then, cupping the back of Dipper's head almost lovingly and pulling the cervitaur closer to him. He tilted his chin, pressing his lips to Dipper's ear before uttering a single question.

"Who owns you?"

Dipper choked on his sobs, crying without restraint, fear and dread churning like a blender in his stomach, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't say the words.

Silence filled the air, tension knotting in Dipper's stomach as he waited for what would come when Bill realized he wasn't going to answer. Without warning, Bill's hand snatched hold of Dipper's hair again, ripping his head back and forcing a cry from his throat. Bill let out a hiss and Dipper could feel the anger radiating off of him in burning waves. If Bill had found this game entertaining before, he certainly didn't anymore.

Bill's teeth latched onto Dipper's jaw, bitting down hard. A strangled sob escaped Dipper's lips as Bill sucked on the bite wound before pulling away to lap at the teeth marks buried in Dipper's jaw line. Dipper tried desperately to pull away, his wrists screaming against the metal bonds that dug into his skin and the chains on his ankles jingling like mad.

"Ah, ah, ah, my little sweet," Bill tutted, his voice falsely sweet before deteriorating into a terrifyingly dark gravel, "You aren't going anywhere."

Bill then continued to litter Dipper's chest with bite marks and bruises and tracks of fingernails dragged down his sides. Dipper screamed, pulling at his restraints, begging Bill with every breath to stop. But the hunter ignored him, peppering Dipper with bleeding wounds and painful marks.

When he reached the junction where Dipper's skin melded seamlessly into deer fur, Bill ran his tongue across Dipper's stomach, raking his nails into light brown fur. He ducked beneath Dipper's arms, circling back around to the cervitaur's rear.

Fear ricocheted like a rocket down Dipper's spine as he heard the sound of a zipper being undone. He tensed, tears coursing down his face. His legs had started to quiver from holding such a splayed out position for so long, his already weak muscles shaking from the effort of keeping him upright. He jolted when he felt Bill's hot prick press against his backside, sliding up towards his tail. Bill let out a moan as Dipper let out a pitiful whine.

Bill pulled back and Dipper's breath caught in his throat, fully expecting the hunter to take him right then and there. Anxiety strangled his chest like a vice, his velvety ears pressed flat against his head. Dipper heard the lid of a bottle click open. The next thing he knew, a lubed finger was pressing itself past the tightness of Dipper's ass, sinking into wet warmth. Dipper whimpered, half from relief, half from dread. Relief from knowing this at least meant that when Bill finally fucked him, it wound't hurt as much. Dread because the worst was still to come.

Bill's finger slid out and Dipper shivered, his cock twitching.

"Now, now, my pet," he hummed, satisfaction lacing his voice. "I take care of what belongs to me."

There was a pause, and then Bill added, almost as an afterthought, "I try not to break my toys."

And then Bill finger fucked him, rocking his hand back and forth, curling his finger and adding another, scissoring them inside Dipper's tight, wet ass, drawing out pitiful whines and gasps from the cervitaur. In a single, passing moment, those fingers pressed against a very specific bundle of nerves. A cry escaped Dipper and every muscle he had clenched and coiled so tight he thought he'd snap, pleasure flooding him in an unstoppable wave. His cock twitched at the upset, so painfully, painfully hard, Dipper thought he was going to break.

When Bill finally took back his fingers, Dipper was sobbing, fear buzzing in his head like a chainsaw as his legs quivered to keep him upright. Anticipation burned him from the inside out, his arms tensed and his throbbing cock traitorously hard. He was already leaking precum, with it smearing into the fur of his underbelly. Dipper was panting, every animal instinct in his body telling him he needed this, that he needed to be fucked and fucked hard, all the while his brain was screaming at him to run, only to come to the conclusion that he _couldn't_ and everything was pain and desire and this burning, aching need and Dipper just wanted it to end.

Dipper jumped when he felt a pair of wide, strong hands grip either side of his flank. He felt the tip of the hunter's prick press against his ass.

"Please," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. He choked on a sob. "Bill, please, don't."

"Hmmmm," Bill hummed. "I love the sound of you begging."

Bill's claw-like nails sank into Dipper's furry sides and yanked him back. Dipper let out a strangled cry as he was sheathed onto Bill's dick all at once, his white, furry ass pulled flush against the hunter's hips. A hot, pulsing pressure filled him all at once and Dipper's knees buckled.

Oh, God, this was happening. This was happening, this was happening, this was happening, and he couldn't do a damned thing to stop it.

Bill leaned forward, pressing his nose into Dipper's fur before sniffing, inhaling Dipper's scent. Dipper whimpered, the action somehow feeling almost as violating as the hunter's dick buried deep inside him.

Bill purred. "You feel wonderful, my pet."

Dipper gasped, forcing his words between each struggling breath. "I am not your pet."

The fingernails buried in his side flexed, digging ever deeper, making Dipper sob. A growl erupted from Bill's throat and the next thing Dipper knew, Bill had slid out of him to the tip before slamming all the way in again, filling Dipper to the hilt. The cervitaur let out a cry, jerking forward with the force of it. Before Dipper had time to adjust, Bill pulled out again and began slamming into Dipper at an uneven rhythm. Dipper sagged forward, mouth stretched wide, choking on his own screams, pulling him self on his wrist bonds to keep himself upright.

Pain radiated up his spine, Bill thrusting into him, hard and violent, without any concern for his "toy." Bill leaned forward again, a thrust hitting that special bundle of nerves again and Dipper screamed, arching his back so far he thought it'd break. He heard Bill chuckle before reaching around and seizing Dipper's pulsing cock in a vice-like grip, making the cervitaur whimper. He started to stroke Dipper, as fast and as erratic as his own thrusts into the cervitaur.

Dipper cringed, gritting his teeth. He could feel the dried tears on his face, but he couldn't cry anymore as dehydrated as he was.

Bill bit into Dipper's flank, drawing yet more blood and Dipper bit back another cry of pain.

Bill pounded into him relentlessly, stroking Dipper so hard he wasn't sure if he felt more pleasure of pain from it. He felt his insides tearing but he almost couldn't bring himself to care as Bill kept a perfect aim on his prostate, sending shooting bursts of pleasure through his stomachs. He could feel his wounds bleeding, pulsing with a pain that mixed with the agonizing pleasure that he knew he shouldn't be feeling.

He was splintering, falling apart at his own bursting seams. Pain and pleasure surrounded him, drowning him until he was living and dying all at once. He was empty, empty of food, of water, of emotion, of everything but the swollen, pulsing heat of Bill's cock thrusting into him over and over, claiming him, branding him.

By the time Bill finished and pulled away every restraint but the collar, Dipper couldn't stand. He couldn't move. He lay on the floor, a collapsed, bleeding, cum-leaking mess. His eyes were as empty as his stomachs as he stared at the wall. He barely registered when Bill leaned down over him and gave him a gentle pat on the rump.

"You did very well, my pet," Bill purred. "Be a good boy and stay still while I go get more supplies to clean and bandage that leg of yours." He stood to leave.  
As he neared the entryway to the main room of the cabin, he paused, looking back at Dipper with a small smile on his face.

"Oh and one more thing, my sweet. Who owns you?"

Dipper didn't even blink. "You do, Master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i'm going hell, you can bet i'm dragging all you fuckers with me
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	3. Hunter

Time seemed to run together, like paint in a rainstorm. The days bled into one another, weeks, mixing with months, as the sun seemed to come in random, sporadic bursts and Dipper could never be sure how long a night would last. The only sign that any time was really passing were the inches Dipper's broken antler was slowly gaining as it grew back. The ever unchanging cabin room he was trapped in was punctuated by Bill's comings and goings. He'd come to fill Dipper's water bowl, to tend to Dipper's leg, which was almost healed completely now, to set food down for him—but only when he remembered to say "Thank you, Master."

Dipper found himself looking forward to these moments, when Bill would come to see him. To the moments when the unending boredom was broken by a kind smile and sometimes even a pat on the head. Nothing bad had happened since that first day Dipper had called Bill "Master." Now, whenever his master came, he only brought good things with him.

Whenever he heard Bill's shoes echo on the wood floor, he felt as his heart leapt in his chest and his ear perked up at the sound, because he knew it meant food or water or a wild flower for him to smell.

There were only one or two incidents since that day so long ago. When Bill would come home in a rage, slamming the door shut, screaming about poacher-hunters and campers and traps that had gone missing, that was when Dipper knew to be scared. It was usually in these fits of rage, Bill would seize Dipper's antler and slam his face into the wall, sending blood to flow from his nose, or he'd slap Dipper sharply across the face, bringing black spots to his vision.

But, Master would always apologize afterwards. He'd coo and pet Dipper and cradle his head in his lap. And then he'd kiss Dipper, warm and gently at first, then hungrily, forcing himself against Dipper, biting at him, licking at him, and muttering the prettiest words into his ears.

At first, Dipper was too scared to push Bill away, the events of before still fresh in his mind. And then, slowly, eventually, he began to hunger for these moments. For when Bill kissed him so hard it felt like he was being devoured. For the feeling that came with them of being wanted, of being needed. Because so long as his master needed him, Dipper would be okay. He'd be safe.

And then there were the moments where Dipper had been caught staring out the window for too long, watching the trees rustle in the breeze, remembering what it felt like to bound through them on nimble hooves. Bill had hit him enough times after catching him in the act, and had screamed and shouted, and waved long, lethal knives in Dipper's face, that Dipper now refused to look anywhere but the ground. A wrong look in the wrong direction could set his master off at any moment.

But that was okay. As long as he was a good boy, as long as he listened and did as Bill said, he was okay for the most part. Bill would only loose his temper occasionally. As long as Dipper kept his master happy, he wouldn't have to worry about being hit, or starved, or beaten. All he had to do was keep Bill happy.

And then, eventually, there came a day that Dipper woke to the early and bright morning rays of sunlight and found Bill standing over him, grinning. Dipper flinched at the sight at first, thinking he was going to be hit again, but then Bill crouched down next to him and started messing with the end of Dipper's chain leash that was latched to the cabin wall.

"You've been a very good boy, Pine Tree," Bill muttered.

Dipper winced as the chain jingled, but he couldn't help the warmth he felt in his cheeks at the praise.

"So, I have a treat for you, my sweet," Bill said, finally standing up, the end of Dipper's chain in his hands. "Come on, get up. Let's take a look at the trees, shall we?"

A thrill surged through Dipper's chest like nothing else he'd ever felt before. "Th-The trees, Master?"

Bill grinned down at him. "I said get up."

Dipper blinked. He couldn't believe his ears. Outside? They were going _outside?_

"I said _up_ ," Bill repeated, jerking on Dipper's collar, choking him.

Dipper scrambled to stand, his unused legs wobbly on the wood floor, before letting Bill lead him outside by the leash. Dipper couldn't remember a brighter, greener day. The sun felt warm on his skin, the grass fresh beneath his hooves. And then he saw it. He saw the tree line that surrounded the cabin. He could see the divots where roots wound through the dirt. He could see the branches clamoring for more space among each other. His mind automatically mapped out the easiest way to bound through the forest, where his hooves would have the best purchase, where to duck and pivot.

This was it, these were the trees he'd been staring at so longingly for the last few weeks. This was where he needed to be. Before he knew what he was doing, Dipper bounded for the tree line, his hooves kicking up clumps of grass.

He'd barely made it five feet, before Bill's leash caught. Dipper's collar caught around his neck, yanking him back. Dipper stumbled falling backwards, his throat throbbing as he sputtered ad gasped for air on the ground.

"Oh my, oh my," Bill tutted and Dipper looked up to see the hunter standing over him. "That is a habit of yours that we'll need to break."

Dipper was still staring up at Bill when the hunter swung his leg around and kicked him in the face.

From then on, Dipper was no longer chained to the wall. For the most part, he was given free reign of the cabin while Bill was gone for the day, though the doors were always locked with a padlock, and the windows too small for Dipper to squeeze his deer half through.

Dipper had spent hours trying to pick the locks on the doors, his heart leaping into his throat at every rustle or sound that came from outside, thinking of all the punishments he'd receive if his master ever found him trying to escape, the least of which included the blood-stained knives that remained locked away under the sink in the kitchen. When Dipper finally accepted that the locks could not be picked, he took to walking around the house cleaning it where he could to keep his master happy. The chain leash that was still ever attached to his collar dragged on the ground behind him.

Bill continued to take him outside every few days, punishing him if Dipper ever tried to dart towards the trees. these punishments were worse than anything Dipper had been given before. His hands were wrapped in bandages from when Bill had pulled out two of his fingernails while he'd screamed, and his right foreleg was still tender from the nails Bill had driven in under his hoof.

Eventually, Dipper learned to keep his head down towards the ground when he was outside the cabin as much as when he did inside. If he didn't look at the trees he wouldn't try to run towards them. Then Master would be happy, and Dipper wouldn't be punished.

* * *

 

It wasn't until a few weeks after they'd started this exercise of letting Dipper outside that Dipper saw someone other than Bill in the cabin for the first time.

He'd woken from dozing on the couch to the sound of strangled shouts and the familiar, clipped tones of his master coming from outside. The last dying rays of a setting sun were filtering in through the windows. He jumped as the door then burst open, his master standing framed in the doorway, dragging something behind him that was struggling violently.

"No, please! Please, let me go!"

Dipper's heart stopped in his chest. It was then that he realized that Bill had not brought home just another badger or some other game.

Dipper's eyes widened as he saw Bill's hand fisted in the hair of a fey girl, the feathery wings sprouting from her back sticking out at odd angles, like they'd been broken. She struggled, tears pouring down her face as Bill dragged her into the cabin and slammed the door shut behind them.

When his eyes landed on Dipper, Bill grinned wide. He held the fey girl up by her hair and shook her slightly.

"Found the thief that's been stealing my traps," he said gleefully. He looked at her and disgust flashed across his face. "Look at how much she cries, it's pathetic. Remember when you used to be like this, Pine Tree?"

But Dipper didn't answer. The fey girl had caught sight of him and had reached out a hand towards him. "Please," she begged through the tears and snot that covered her face. Her right eye was purple and swollen and a gash was slit along her collarbone. "Please," she asked Dipper. "Please help me. Save me."

Dipper couldn't move. He sat, wide-eyed and frozen to the spot, staring at the fey girl, broken and bleeding as Bill held her aloft.

"Oh, shut up," Bill said with a roll of his eyes before slamming the girl's face into the table. She let out a strangled cry.

He then dragged the crying fey out of the room and into the cabin's back room, where a carving table sat, soaked in blood and scrubbed smooth.

Dipper sat on the couch, his face buried in his hands as he stared, wide-eyed at the ground, tears streaming between his fingers. He could hear the fey girl's screams even from in here, could hear her begging, pleading for Dipper to come and save her.

Before Dipper realized what he was doing, he was on his feet, bounding down the back hallway and towards the carving room's locked door. He slammed into it, pounding on the door as tears streamed down his face.

"Bill!" he screamed. "Master, please! Stop it!"

Dipper could hear the girl, could hear her crying and screaming so loud his ears rang.

And then it stopped, her cries cutting off as quickly as if the plug on a radio had been pulled.

It was like the world had stopped. Dipper froze, staring unseeingly at the locked door. The cabin was deathly quiet. Very slowly, Dipper sank to the floor and didn't move until there came the scrape of a lock and the door opened.

Dipper looked up, his body in a numb, buzzing shock, tears soaking his own face.

His master stood over him, forearms soaked in blood, a smattering of it across his face. He grinned down as Dipper stared blankly up at him with wide eyes. Bill crouched down and Dipper flinched.

Bill seemed to find this amusing as he chuckled softly, reaching out a blood-soaked hand and seizing hold of Dipper's chin. Dipper could feel the fey girl's blood smear across his skin, still warm. He was sure he'd vomit.

Dipper didn't move as Bill leaned forward and kissed him. He was still frozen in place when Bill pulled back, that wide grin slashed across his face. He reached up, pushing a strand of hair from Dipper's forehead, smearing more blood across his temple.

"Are you scared, my pet?" Bill asked gently.

It wasn't until then that Dipper realized he was trembling.

"Was it because of her?" Bill asked, jerking his head back towards the open door. Dipper could just see the shadow of something in the dark of the room, a bent wing, stuck straight up into the air.

Dipper choked on a sob, tears, hot and burning, coursing down his face.

"Shhhhh-sh-sh-sh," Bill hushed, pulling Dipper forward and wrapping him in a hug. He ran his bloodied fingers through Dipper's hair as Dipper cried. "I know, I know."

After what felt like an eternity, Bill stood before pulling Dipper to his feet. "You've been a very good boy, Pine Tree," Bill said, pulling Dipper's arm across his shoulders and letting the cervitaur lean on him. "I think I have a treat you might like."

Bill then guided Dipper back across to the opposite side of the cabin, towards a door Dipper had always known to be locked. He watched as Bill unlocked it, letting the door swing open to reveal a shadowed room. A worn wooden dresser stood in one corner, the walls littered with yet more pelts of fur. Dipper's eyes landed on a bed in the middle of the room, with an old, quilted blanket, patterned with endless triangles, laid out on it.

With a jolt, Dipper realized: this was Bill's bedroom.

"Come on, Pine Tree, lets get to bed," Bill said as he pulled Dipper into the room.

The two spent the night in Bill's bed, Dipper's lower body taking up much more space than a normal person's. Dipper lay under the covers, blood still smeared across his face as Bill slept soundly, his arms wrapped around Dipper's human body, pulling him close as Dipper continued to stare at the far wall with unblinking eyes into the early morning hours.

When he woke the next morning, he came out to find a new set of feathered, tawny wings had been mounted right above the mantel.


	4. Leash

Whatever changes came about with the cabin and Dipper's imprisonment, one thing always remained the same: the chain attached to Dipper's collar was never removed. It dragged heavily on the floor behind him as he walked around the cabin, scrubbing the floors and windows. It rested in Bill's hand whenever he was allowed outside, or was otherwise locked to a bolt on the outside of the cabin. Bill wrapped it around his fist, using it to drag Dipper close in the dark hours of the night as he littered Dipper's body with kisses and filled every empty part of him until he felt fit to burst. But the chain was always there.

Dipper had long since stopped trying to loose the collar around his neck. The scratch marks had had faded away and his neck was no longer constantly soar. If he thought about other things, he didn't even notice it most of the time.

Time passed since the incident with the fey girl, her wings still pinned in the center wall above the mantel and Dipper still had his chain. His broken antler had already grown to half the size it had been before he'd been brought to Bill's cabin.

For weeks since the fey girl, Dipper jumped at every little thing. Whenever his hoof connected with his water dish, or he tripped and made his chain rattle in front of his master. His heart leapt into his throat every time the door opened, terrified of what mood his master would be in today. He was living on the constant verge of a panic attack. Every time he heard the wind whistle, he could hear the fay girl's screams. Every time he heard a woodpecker outside, he could hear the crunching sound her nose had made when Bill slammed her face into the table.

For weeks, the only thing Dipper could think was that he was next. Bill was going to kill him next and his antlers were going to end up on that wall, right next to that set of wings.

—But, maybe not, Dipper realized. The fey girl had died because she'd upset his master. She'd done something wrong and was punished for it. But, if Dipper behaved. If Dipper acted like a good boy and made his master happy, then maybe...maybe he wouldn't be punished. Maybe he could live.

With this thought constantly buzzing in his head, Dipper started to clean the cabin twice as often. He kept his dead down all the time, answering all his master's questions and submitting to everything his master desired. And for some time, this seemed to work.

Bill had been gradually gifting Dipper with more and more freedoms, until one day, Dipper heard the very distinct click of his chain being unlatched. Complaining of his aching feet, Bill had taken Dipper's chain leash off his collar and ordered him outside to collect the firewood for that night's dinner.

Dipper, his neck suddenly feeling ten pounds lighter, thanked his master and for the first time in months, stepped outside alone. The full force of the situation didn't hit Dipper until he had a large collection of twigs and branches in his arms. The faint sound of fey laughter reached Dipper and he paused, looking up from the ground for the first time. He looked towards where he heard the laughter, coming from the trees that ringed Bill's cabin.

Dipper froze, staring at the edge of the tree line, seeing it for the first time in weeks. He kept his head down so often, he'd nearly forgotten what it'd looked like.

There was so much green, it blurred his vision, the leaves whispering like they were trying to egg him on...or warn him. He could taste the scent of them, so sweet, it made his jaw cramp. Without realizing it, the wood in his arms tumbled to the ground.

Fey laughter continued to drift through the trees, fading in and out, like it was coming from very far away. A phrase echoed once inside Dipper's head, like a long forgotten memory that had sunk into his veins. _I am not your pet._

He could hear the faint echoes of the dead fey girl's screams in his ears to mingle with the laughter coming from the forest line.

He took a step away from the cabin and towards the trees. He glanced back fearfully, but his master was nowhere in sight. He took another step, flinching as he waited for something to happen. For his master to shout, or a trap to spring.

Instead, a breeze blew through the trees, making them chatter once more. He could smell fresh grass and overturned earth and it made his mouth water. Dipper took another step. Again, nothing happened. Dipper felt as his breathing hitched, his heart suddenly jumping into his throat.

He took another step. He glanced back at the cabin, Bill still gone. He turned back towards the woods. By the time Dipper's hoof touched the ground next, he was galloping. Elation burst forth in his chest, a feeling of hope so strong, it was suffocating. His unused muscles screamed with the effort and his heart beat wildly in his chest, but Dipper was sure he'd never run this fast before. The tree line was so close, just another five feet...three feet...two...one—

_Bang!_

A number of different things happened at once. A loud noise, like a gunshot rang out, deafening Dipper. A cloud of birds erupted from the trees with squawks of panic. Pain unlike anything he'd felt before shot through Dipper's hindquarters.

Dipper's rear leg seized up. He tripped.

Dipper's face hit the ground first and he felt blood spurt from his nose, followed by his shoulder, which made a sharp _pop!_ sound, then his antlers as he tumbled over himself. He heard an unmistakable _snap!_ and knew at once his other antler had broken.

Dipper tumbled, tail over antlers, in a wild confusion before skidding to a halt in the grass. His heart still beating wildly in his chest, Dipper looked up in desperation to find himself inches from the tree line he'd been running towards.

Dipper kicked, his rear leg useless, and grabbed a fistful of grass, using it to haul himself forward. He could feel the ground beneath him grow slick with blood as his hindquarters bled out, but he grabbed another handful of grass and crawled forward using his front hooves to dig into the soft ground and pull. _The trees_ , he thought desperately, _the trees are so close._

His bleeding nose was barely centimeters from the roots of a great sycamore when he suddenly felt a crushing pain clamp down on his non-injured hind leg. Dipper let out a cry of pain and grabbed another fistful of grass.

"Pine Tree, Pine Tree, Pine Tree," Bill tutted, standing over Dipper and looking down on him.

Dipper ignored him, his eyes fixed on the trees right in front of him. He stretched a hand towards them. So close.

"Running away are we?" Bill said, and Dipper could hear the grin in his voice. He could see the trees, see the leaves, rustling in the breeze. He was less than an inch away.

"And after everything I've done for you," Bill cooed. "I thought we'd built our relationship stronger than that."

"So...close." The words escaped Dipper before he could stop them, creeping up and out his throat in barely a whisper.

He could practically hear the smile fall from Bill's face. "Hmmm, no, I guess not."

With a twist of his ankle, Bill drove his foot into Dipper's leg. There came a loud _snap!_ similar to when Dipper's antler broke and Dipper screamed in pain.

Finally, Dipper tore his eyes away from the tree line. He rolled onto his side as Bill took his foot away. Now both of Dipper's back legs were immobile, and searing with a pain so intense, black spots appeared in his vision. He looked up at Bill through the tears in his eyes, and just managed to catch sight of the rifle slung over the hunter's back.

 _So that's it_ , Dipper thought. _Bill was hiding, waiting and watching for me to make a run for it._

In the next moment, Dipper let out another yelp of pain as Bill seized hold of a fist full of Dipper's hair and began to drag him back to the cabin. Dipper screamed, his limp and useless hind legs dragging behind him—one broken, the other with a bullet buried in it.

Bill ignored him and continued to drag him by his hair towards the cabin. When they reached it, Bill flung open the door and threw Dipper inside.

Dipper landed with a crash, everything from his dislocated shoulder and broken antler to his bleeding and broken legs screaming with pain. He flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut and looked up to find Bill, his master, standing in front of it, face shadowed in the dim light of the cabin, and looking more murderous than Dipper had ever seen him.

Fear suddenly crashed down on Dipper as he realized what had just happened. He'd tried to _escape_. He'd just tried to run away. And Bill had caught him.

Every inch of Dipper was trembling now, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he held them up to his face.

"M-Master, please," Dipper squeaked, and he could feel the tears as they began to run down his face. "I'm sorry, please don't—"

Bill was across the cabin in under a second, his fist slamming into the side of Dipper's face, sending him crashing into the ground. Dipper let out a cry of pain as his injured shoulder hit the floor.

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ " Bill screamed, seizing hold of Dipper's hair again to haul him upright. "After everything I've done for you!" Bill shouted in Dipper's face and Dipper flinched, cowering. "I've fed you, I've watered you! I've let you out for walks, I've even let you stay in my _bed!_ And this is how you repay me?"

Dipper sobbed, tears flowing freely now. "B-Bill, I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean—"

This time it was the butt of the riffle that collided with the side of Dipper's head. For a second, the world went black before Dipper found himself once more sprawled on the cabin floor.

"I am your _Master_ ," Bill snarled.

"Master," Dipper hastily corrected himself. "Master, I-I—" Dipper tried to string together a cohesive sentence, but his head was fuzzy, black spots still lingering in his vision. Pain from so many appendages screamed inside his skull, making it hard to think.

But if there was one thing he knew was startling and totally clear, it was that Bill was angry. Bill was very, very angry and Dipper was terrified.

"Please," was all Dipper could manage to say. "Please, Master, I would never—"

_Click!_

Dipper froze. A very cold, very solid gun barrel was pressed very hard into the side of his temple. His breath hitched and he didn't dare move a muscle as he very slowly turned his eyes on Bill.

"Don't beg," Bill said. "It's pathetic. And I won't have a pathetic animal for a pet."

Tears coursed soundlessly down Dipper's face and he had to catch himself from saying sorry again. Terror like nothing else had rooted Dipper to the spot as he stared at Bill, the barrel of his rifle boring into his temple. Bill was going to kill him. Bill was going to kill him. And then he'd probably skin him, and hang his pelt over the fireplace with all the others.

Dipper dug his teeth into his lip and bit back a sob, his heart stuck in his throat as he waited for the pull of the trigger. He was going to die. And after everything. After he'd tried so hard to be such a good pet to his master. After he'd cleaned and kept company and listened to orders, it was all for nothing anyway. He was going to die. Dipper screwed his eyes shut and waited for the end.

"Shhhhh-sh-sh-shhhhh."

Dipper's eyes sprang open, his heart leaping in his chest. It was just then that he realized that the cold press of the rifle was gone, and instead, his master's gentle fingers were stroking down his face as he cooed quietly.

"Shhh-sh, I know," Bill said. Dipper blinked through his tears to find Bill crouched down on his level, caressing Dipper's cheek. "I know my pet, I know. You didn't mean it, did you?"

Dipper almost couldn't believe it. He was so stunned, he almost didn't answer. Dipper shook his head quickly, tears still streaming down his face.

Bill's eyebrows tilted up in gentle concern. "And you know that there's no other place out there for you? There's nowhere for you to go?"

It wasn't until then that Dipper realized that he was still biting his lip and that he was biting it so hard, it'd begun to bleed. Dipper unclenched his teeth and had to swallow a mouthful of blood before he could speak.

"N-No, Master. I belong here, with you."

Bill smiled and Dipper felt a sudden rush of relief in his heart. His master was smiling—he'd made his master smile. He...he'd been forgiven. He wasn't going to die.

"Good boy," Bill muttered, wiping away at Dipper's tears. Dipper couldn't help as a weak smile flitted to his face.

Bill's fingers suddenly froze on Dipper's face and the smile flickered.

"But, you know you still need to be punished," Bill sighed.

Fear surged back into Dipper's chest. His hands began to tremble again. Dipper had to work very hard to swallow the knot in his throat before he nodded mutely.

Bill grinned so wide, Dipper could see each and every one of his teeth. "Good."

In the next moment, Bill had seized hold of Dipper's recently regrown antler and had hauled him to his feet with a cry of pain. Dipper's hooves stumbled over the floor, his injured back legs awkward and uncooperative as Bill dragged him to the scrubbed wooden table that stood in the corner of the cabin near the kitchen.

Dipper let out an "oof!" as the corner of the table slammed into his stomach, Bill forcing him to double over, pressing Dipper's face so hard into the wood, Dipper could feel the groves of grain beneath his cheek.

"Do you know what this is, Pine Tree?" Bill said, forcing Dipper to stay down even as he flailed.

"A-A table, Master!" Dipper said. The edge was pressing so hard into his stomach, he couldn't breath.

"That's right," Bill said in a sing-song voice. "And what do we do on a table, my sweet pet?"

Dipper's heart stuttered in his chest. "We...we eat off it."

"Very good," Bill purred. "Very good."

He pressed Dipper even harder into the table top, the wood bitting into Dipper's cheek bone.

"Now!" Bill said. "Usually we only eat wild animals off our table, isn't that right, Pine Tree?"

Dipper didn't respond as he sobbed against the table's rough, wooden surface. He could feel splinters bury into his face

Bill didn't seem to notice. "And what is the difference between a pet and a wild animal?"

Dipper's heart seized in his chest again. Bill wasn't...surely he wasn't going to _eat_ Dipper, was he?

"Well, for one, a pet doesn't run away from its master," Bill answered. "Now, are you a pet, Pine Tree? Or are you a wild animal?"

Dipper muttered something and Bill leaned in closer. "Sorry? What was that?"

"A pet, Master!" Dipper shouted, sobbing very hard now.

"Hmmm," Bill said, considering this answer for a moment. "Let us just make sure, shall we?"

Dipper's eyes rolled madly in his head as he tried to look back at what Bill was doing. He saw a bright flash of silver and he swore his heart stopped.

"Face forward," Bill said briskly, jerking Dipper's antler and forcing his nose into the wood.

There was a moment's pause, followed quickly by a blinding, searing fire of pain that engulfed Dipper's back. Dipper screamed. He tried to kick, but his legs were useless as he struggled against Bill's hold. His front legs clattered uselessly against the cabin floor.

"Ah, ah, ah, Pine Tree," Bill said, loud enough to be heard over Dipper's screams. "If you make a fuss, it will only make it worse."

Dipper stopped kicking. It took every single quivering ounce of will power he had to keep himself still, his face pressed so hard into the table, he was thought his nose would break. He reached up and gripped the edges of the table, his nails digging gouges into the wood as he continued to scream.

Pure, white-hot, blinding fire was spreading slowly over Dipper's back that was so intense, he wondered if Bill had actually set him on fire.

"Now, Pine Tree!" Bill shouted once more over Dipper's screams. "If you were a true wild animal, I would skin you all of you, gut you, quarter you, and cut you into tiny pieces before throwing you into the pit."

It was then that Dipper felt a very strange sensation. It was very similar to whenever he'd pealed off a wet t-shirt from his back, only much, much more painful. With a surge of fear, Dipper finally realized what Bill was doing.

Bill was skinning him alive.

Dipper's screams doubled in volume, which meant that Bill had to shout twice as loud.

"Then I would boil your fat for flavor, and should your antlers be in good repair, I'd saw your skull in two and mount it to a plaque—"

But Dipper didn't get to hear the rest of what Bill would do because it was at that moment he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Dipper let out a hiss, arching his back sharply from the stinging pain that shot through it.

"Shhhh-sh-sh," Bill cooed as he laid another medicine-soaked bandage over Dipper's raw and bleeding back. "I know, I know. It hurts, doesn't it, my pet?"

Dipper bit his lip, tears sliding silently down his face, and he nodded. Dipper had come to to find that nearly half the skin on his back from his shoulders down had been flayed from him. According to Bill, it'd taken the better part of an hour, only some of which Dipper had been unconscious for, rousing every now and again to start screaming afresh.

And now Dipper was on the floor, his legs folded beneath him as Bill bandaged his back from a wooden chair.

"You should be very grateful to your master for taking such good care of your injuries," Bill said softly as he laid another bandage down.

Dipper's legs, shoulder, and antler were still throbbing painfully, but not near as bad as before Bill had patched him up, tweezing the bullet from Dipper's hindquarters and wrapping Dipper's broken leg tightly in a cast. He could at least walk now without too much help.

Dipper swallowed and his voice trembled when he spoke. "Thank you, Master."

"That's a good boy," Bill said, and Dipper felt another warm flair of relief at the sound of a smile in his master's voice.

Bill laid down the last bandage and a slight numbing relief settled over Dipper's back. He stared at the ground and was trying very hard not to look back at the scrubbed wooden table in the corner, where bloody rags were laid in a heap over the gory remains of his own skin.

Dipper jumped as Bill's fingers were suddenly walking their way up the nape of Dipper's neck and threading into his hair.

"Hmmm," Bill hummed as he pet Dipper. "You've been a very good boy. You accepted your punishment and realized you've done your very kind and caring master wrong. Do you swear never to do that again, my sweet?"

The image of the tree line flashed in Dipper's mind, so green and fresh and promising freedom. Tears flowed down his cheeks at the memory of their smell. Dipper didn't say anything, but gave the smallest of nods.

"That's a good boy," Bill cooed again. "Would you like your reward?"

Dipper continued to stare at the ground as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Yes, master."

There came the scrapping back of a chair as Bill stood up and walked around to stand in front of Dipper. It wasn't until then that Dipper finally looked up from the floor and up into his master's face as he stood over him.

Bill grinned down at him, his good eye flashing. He took a step forward so that his groin was right before Dipper's face. Taking hold of the back of Dipper's head, Bill forced him forward until Dipper's nose was buried in Bill's crotch. Dipper could feel the press of Bill's hard cock through his pants, could smell the sweat of him, and feel the heat radiating off him.

Bill's grin grew even wider as Dipper continued to stare up at him.

"Well," Bill said in a soft voice, "take your reward."

Resignedly, Dipper reached up and slowly undid Bill's pants. When Dipper pulled his master's cock free, it felt warm and thick in his hands. Tear tracks raking own his face, Dipper blinked at it before slowly opening his mouth and sinking it down over Bill's cock, swallowing it whole.

Bill let out a soft moan and Dipper blinked up at him. His master had tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering half-closed. Dipper took this as his cue. Pulling back, Dipper gently held the base of Bill's cock, before sinking back on it entirely. Bill let out another moan.

"Good boy," he muttered.

After that Dipper picked up the pace, sliding Bill's cock out of his mouth before sinking back down onto it again and again. He could hear his master's little moans as he slid his tongue down his shaft, flicking it in the places he knew Master liked it best—along the ridge ringing his tip, the vein along the bottom—letting his teeth tug every now and then on loose skin. Every ecstasy-ridden moan sent Dipper's cheeks into a deeper flush, and despite everything else, sent a jolt down to Dipper's own groin. This was what he was good at, this was what he wanted, to make his master happy.

Bill suddenly seized the back of Dipper's head and pulled him forward. Dipper choked as Bill's cock hit the back of his throat and Bill groaned, leaning forward over Dipper. Then Bill pulled him back and thrust into him once more. Tears gathered in Dipper's eyes, his throat stinging as Bill thrust into him again and again, picking up the pace until he let out a final gasp, pressing Dipper's face into his pelvis.

Dipper choked on the cum spilling into his mouth, trying to swallow it all at once as Bill pulled way finally. Before he could reach up to wipe what had dripped down his chin, Bill had seized hold of Dipper's jaw and forced his face skywards and kissing him with enough force to nearly topple him over.

Dipper let out a small moan, a shiver of anticipation racing down his spine as Bill slid his tongue into Dipper's mouth, slick, hot, wet. He could feel his own cock growing hard, unsheathing itself along his underbelly. His hands automatically flew to his groin, palming himself as his master kissed him hungrily.

"Ah, ah, ah," Bill tutted, pulling away suddenly and seizing hold of Dipper's wrist. "You know the rules, Pine Tree," Bill muttered, letting his lips travel to ghost over the line of Dipper's jaw and dipping down into the hallow of his neck. Dipper let out another moan, panting slightly as a flush set his face on fire. Bill had taken both of Dipper's wrists now and held them in a vice-like grip.

"And you know what happens next?" Bill purred before licking a hot stripe up Dipper's chest.

Dipper whimpered. "I do, Master."

"Hmmm," Bill thought, pausing to nibble at Dipper's ear. "You don't sound all that excited, my sweet."

Dipper gasped. "Please, Master."

Dipper glanced at Bill, his own face pink, mouth agape. He could feel his own cock, now painfully hard and leaking pre-cum onto his fur. He could only hope Bill wouldn't force him onto his back as he'd done before, his woulds still throbbing painfully.

" _Please_ , Master," he begged. "I need you."

Bill's grin was wicked. "Of course you do, Pine Tree," Bill muttered before sinking his teeth into the meat above Dipper's collar bone. Dipper let out a gasp that was half-pain, half-ecstasy. He felt as blood slid over his shoulder.

"Of course you do."


End file.
